Smoke drifted through the plaza like fog over a graveyard, the air still thick with fire and gunpowder. Mikey stepped forward, the soles of his boots crunching on bullet casings and shattered concrete.
He scanned the ruin around him—
To the right:
Bobo, sprawled out on the pavement. His chest rose shallowly. One eye swollen shut. His once-unbreakable metal arm was blackened and twisted, fingers locked in a frozen grasp, half-melted from the flamethrower's blast. Ash clung to his face like war paint.
To the left:
Ryosuke, slumped against a bent steel beam, his body limp. His sword was lying thirty feet away, far out of reach, gleaming faintly beneath dust and grime. His cybernetic leg sparked, the casing cracked.
Mikey's fists clenched at his sides.
He turned to Luce, who was crouched behind a scorched pillar, frantically scanning the mech's movements, calculating something.
"They're down," Mikey said, voice quiet but steady. "You've got a plan, right? Weak point? Kill switch?"
Luce looked up, startled. "Maybe. But—"
"I'll stall it," Mikey cut in. "You need time. I'm buying it."
She looked like she wanted to argue. Her eyes flicked to the pistol in his hand—shaking slightly. She saw the fear. But beneath it… something harder.
"…Be careful," she murmured.
Mikey nodded, turned away, and stepped into open ground.
The mech loomed in the center of the courtyard like a walking tank. Twenty feet tall. Shoulders broad and plated in reinforced alloy. One arm ended in a rotating turret, the other in a scorched and twitching flamethrower, still leaking fuel. Its torso was wide and barrel-shaped, and its head was a small, rotating dome with a burning red eye at the center.
"HEY!" Mikey shouted, raising his voice above the crackle of nearby flames. "Over here, you oversized toaster!"
The mech stopped. Its head swiveled toward him with a sharp click. The red eye locked on.
Mikey swallowed hard. "Damn… you're even scarier up close."
He raised his pistol, forcing his hands to steady.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The bullets slammed against its torso and arms, leaving nothing but faint dents. The mech didn't so much as stagger.
WHIRRRRRRR—
The turret began to spin.
"Now!" Mikey shouted to himself and sprinted left, diving behind a wide concrete pillar just as—
BRRRRRT!
The turret unleashed a torrent of high-caliber rounds, the sound deafening. Bullets ripped through the air like a buzzsaw, chewing into the pillar.
Chunks of concrete exploded around him. Mikey curled up, covering his head, heart pounding against his ribs.
Shit, shit, shit…
Then—
Silence.
The gun stopped. He peeked out.
Ten-second reload.
That's what Luce had clocked. That's his window.
Eight seconds now.
He darted from cover, sprinting low and fast toward the sword lying across the open floor. He could feel the mech trying to recalibrate, its servos whining as it shifted its stance.
He reached the weapon and grabbed the hilt.
"NGH—!"
The weight nearly pulled his shoulder out of its socket.
It's heavy.
Insanely heavy.
Mikey strained, gritting his teeth, veins bulging in his neck.
This thing… Ryosuke had wielded it like it was a baton. But Mikey felt like it was trying to pin him to the ground.
"Come on… MOVE!"
WHIRRRRRRR—
"Shit!!"
He dropped the sword and bolted, skidding across the plaza as bullets rained down behind him. Sparks flew where they hit the pavement. A shot grazed his sleeve, another blasted the ground just inches from his foot.
He zigzagged. Ducking. Weaving.
That's when he saw it.
A damaged maintenance grate.
Behind a cracked pillar. Half-covered in debris—but just enough space to slip through.
He dove.
Slammed the cover open and vanished underground just as the mech's turret rotated his way again.
Darkness. Dust. Cobwebs. His lungs burned. But he crawled fast through the service tunnel, fingers bleeding as they scraped along rusted metal.
There. A second grate. Above him.
He pressed gently. It lifted.
He was right behind the mech.
Silent.
He climbed out. Careful. Focused. No hesitation.
Mikey sprinted, leapt—grabbed onto its back using a cable as a handhold.
The machine jerked slightly, but didn't register him yet.
From his belt, Mikey drew it—
Nadia's knife.
Black steel. Serrated edge. The symbol of the Defectors branded on it. A weapon made for up-close, desperate work.
"C'mon…" he hissed, climbing higher.
He found a panel between the armor plates on the upper back—secured with four bolts.
He stabbed. Twisted.
Metal screamed.
One bolt off. Then another.
The panel popped loose—exposing a web of glowing wires, coolant tubes, and a flickering node pulsing red.
"Time to open you up."
He gripped the knife, roared—
"AAHHH!!"
—and stabbed into the wiring.
Sparks exploded. The mech spasmed violently.
It finally noticed him.
Its torso whirled violently, trying to throw him off.
But Mikey held on, driving the knife again and again into its guts.
Below, Bobo stirred. His vision blurred. He blinked the smoke from his eyes and stared upward.
There, in the firelight—
Mikey, clinging to a giant of metal, a glowing blade in hand, stabbing and screaming through the chaos.
"…Kid…" Bobo rasped.
He coughed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, smiled. "You're doin' good."
Bobo's faint smile barely had time to form before it was shattered.
The mech's metal hand suddenly whipped backward—
CLANK!
It grabbed Mikey mid-stab, its fingers crushing around his torso like a vise. With a brutal twist, it hurled him over its head.
Mikey's body spun like a ragdoll in the air—
WHAM!
He slammed hard into the side of a steel crate, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He crumpled to the ground, gasping. Nadia's knife, still slick with wires and oil, remained clutched in his trembling hand.
Shit…
My ribs…
Pain flared hot through his side. He tried to inhale, but only got half a breath.
He coughed—
Blood splattered against his palm. His lungs burned.
Across the plaza, Luce watched, her eyes wide with panic. But she didn't run to him—she didn't have time for that.
She stared at the mech. Analyzing. Calculating.
Then the machine lifted its turret arm again—
WHIIIRRRR—click… click…
Nothing.
It jammed. The red eye blinked in confusion. The barrel gave a mechanical cough, then went still.
Luce's eyes narrowed.
Mikey's knife… it did something.
The kid hadn't stabbed deep, but he hit something.
The turret's dead...
Mikey, panting and bloodied, pulled himself upright. His legs wobbled.
He glared at the towering mech, teeth red.
"...So I did hurt you," he rasped. "You son of a bitch."
That was it.
The moment.
Luce's mind flashed through her observations:
He hit something… a node… wires…
It didn't pierce deep enough—
But that spot… that exposed spot…
If only I had some confirmation—
The mech suddenly raised its scorched flamethrower arm and slid it behind its back, shielding the exposed panel Mikey had damaged.
Luce's heart skipped.
And there it is.
It knows. That's its weak point.
Her eyes widened. She shouted: "Mikey! The back! That's its weak point! You didn't get deep enough before!"
Mikey turned to her, chest heaving, eyes burning with pain—and purpose.
He nodded once.
But the mech wasn't giving him time.
It began marching toward Mikey, metal feet pounding into the plaza, shaking the ground beneath them. Its turret, now useless, was lifted like a club, swinging down in a wide arc.
Mikey dodged, diving sideways—
WHAM!
The turret slammed into the ground, cracking stone.
But the mech didn't stop. It twisted, turret swinging horizontally—
Too fast.
"Shit—!"
Before it connected—
BOOM!
Bobo slammed into the mech's side, both arms raised. His scorched metal limb groaned under the pressure as he caught the full weight of the blow.
Steel met steel.
Bobo grunted, face clenched, boots skidding back across the plaza floor.
"Go, kid!" he roared. "Find something to finish this thing! I'll hold it!"
Mikey didn't hesitate.
He ran.
Bobo strained, veins bulging in his neck, teeth bared in a grimace. The mech growled mechanically, trying to push through him—but Bobo held fast, even as his boots were dragged inch by inch across the battlefield.
Behind him, he spotted Ryosuke, still unconscious, slumped against the pillar.
Bobo gritted his teeth and bellowed:
"Ryo! Get the fuck up! Now's a good time!"
Mikey darted behind cover, chest aching with every breath. He scanned the battlefield, sweat stinging his eyes.
That's when he saw it—
Luce, climbing a ladder, heading toward a stack of crates near the east wall. Her eyes locked on the mech, focused, determined. She had a plan—but Mikey didn't know what it was.
Then he spotted something else.
A long maintenance cable, coiled and half-buried beneath a fallen light pole. Industrial-grade. Thick and heavy. Still connected to a power box.
Perfect.
He sprinted for it, ducking under stray debris, hopping over broken beams.
Behind him—
CRASH!
Bobo's strength finally gave out. The mech flung him like a ragdoll across the plaza. He smashed into a cracked pillar, the impact sending chunks of concrete flying. He slid down, coughing hard, barely conscious.
The mech turned back toward Mikey.
Red eye glowing. Wounded, but not finished.
Mikey panted, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.
His vision swam. His limbs ached. All around him: smoke, ruin, silence… and the ticking presence of death.
I can't give up...
He closed his eyes and centered himself. Inhale. Exhale.
I need to prove to them...
He dropped to a knee and grabbed the thick, coiled industrial cable lying on the ground. The steel coating was rough, heavy—too heavy for someone like him.
But Mikey gritted his teeth.
…that I belong with them!
With a primal yell, Mikey sprinted toward the mech, dragging the long cable behind him like a chain from hell.
The machine turned, towering above, tracking him with that glowing red eye.
Mikey didn't stop.
He ran a full circle around its legs, wrapping the cable tight. The mech swung its massive torso and brought down its broken turret like a club—
WHOOSH!
Mikey slid under the sweeping arm, sparks flying from the scorched ground.
He didn't look back.
Second loop.
Third.
The fourth.
The cable grew taut.
Mikey yanked it back with everything he had, trying to tighten the loop.
But he wasn't strong enough. The mech simply stood there, looming, indifferent.
"Bobo!!!"
The cry echoed across the chaos.
Bobo's eyes opened, blood still dripping from his temple. He saw Mikey—cable stretched to the limit, arms shaking.
He grinned.
"Heh… I got you, kid."
Bobo pushed off the rubble and sprinted like hell.
Mikey planted his feet.
"Throw me!"
Bobo didn't ask questions. He grabbed Mikey by the waist and hurled him backward, his body acting like a counterweight.
The cable snapped taut—
The mech's legs buckled.
It toppled forward, crashing to the ground like a dying titan. Both arms instinctively reached out to catch itself. In doing so, it left its exposed back panel completely unguarded.
Then—too late—it started to lift the turret arm again to shield itself.
But—
"You ain't goin' nowhere!"
Bobo lunged, grabbing the turret arm and pinning it down with everything he had. Metal creaked and groaned under the pressure as he held it in place.
Mikey's eyes went wide. He saw it: the flamethrower arm was moving now, slowly rising to cover the panel.
Dammit... It'll all be for nothing…
He looked around desperately—then spotted it.
A fallen soldier.
Beside him: a sniper rifle.
Mikey dashed to it, gritting through the pain in his ribs. He dropped to a knee, aimed down the scope—
BANG!
The bullet struck the mech's arm—
Only a dent.
No...
The flamethrower arm rose higher.
I can't...
Then—
SHUNK!
A blur of motion. A flash of steel.
Ryosuke.
He came crashing in from the side, sword drawn, eyes burning with life. He landed on the mech's arm and drove his blade through it, stabbing it into the concrete below.
The already-damaged flamethrower limb screeched, then locked in place—pinned down.
"Stay," Ryosuke muttered, sweat dripping down his jaw. "You demon."
Now both arms were locked. The back was exposed. But Mikey didn't have time to get around.
Then—
"Mikey!"
He looked up.
Above him, high on the stacked crates—
Luce.
Wind tugging at her blonde hair. Her eyes locked onto his.
In that moment, there were no words.
He understood her.
She understood him.
Do it.
Without hesitation, Mikey gripped the sniper rifle. He spun, using the momentum—
"Luce!"
And hurled it into the air.
The sniper rifle turned end over end, spinning like fate itself.
Luce didn't flinch.
She leapt from the crates, body fully extended—horizontal in midair. The world seemed to slow around her.
The rifle flew—
Slam!
She caught it mid-fall.
Still airborne, Luce brought it to her shoulder, peered down the scope—
The exposed panel glinted like a red target in the center of a battlefield.
"Gotcha."
BANG!
The rifle kicked.
The bullet sliced through smoke and ash, spiraling through the air—
—A perfect shot.
CLANK!
Luce hit the ground in a roll, tucking and twisting as the rifle clattered beside her.
The mech's red eye flickered. A rising whine built from deep inside its core.
Then—
BOOM!
An explosion tore through its torso, fire gushing out from its joints. Its limbs jerked violently, sparks spraying in every direction.
The monster slumped forward, black smoke billowing from its back, then collapsed with a metallic groan, its frame hissing, twitching, dead.
Silence.
Ash fell like snow.
Four figures stood amidst the destruction.
Burned. Bruised. Bloodied.
But alive.
They had finally won.